Tart
by Adia Adore
Summary: Just another angsty picnic in the hospital wing. Indignation ensues. Slash. H/D.


Whoa, I'm writing again?

Ya. I know.

Googlism Drabble Challenge  
  
Title: Tart  
Author: AdiaAdore

Pairing: H/D  
Genre: Oh, the much loved pre-slash humor/angst.   
Rating: PG-13 for good measure.  
Disclaimer: No money, seriously. Oh, and it's not a drabble, but oh the fuck well.  
Summary: Draco plays with his thoughts like marionettes, drumming his fingers behind him.   
  
  


  
  
Draco is really small, Harry thinks, watching him writhe silently on the bed next to his. He sourly rubs his wrists.  
  
But he can still pack a punch. It is Sunday, and they are still in the hospital wing, bored and weak and tender.  
  
It is hot. The sun burns through the middle of this afternoon, a sticky pall that glosses the windows with heat and hangs in the air like a heavy blanket. Harry hears voices on the grounds below, but he isn't close enough to tell from where they're coming. He vaguely remembers that he is hungry, and his stomach rumbles almost apathetically in time. He gives it a ginger pat, hitting a swollen part of his ribcage by accident and biting his lip in pain.  
  
He continues to sulk to himself for a decent while, his attention lazily drifting out the window until he hears a purr of a groan into a pillow, and his eyes travel wayside.  
  
Draco has rolled over and propped his chin up with his hands. He is bruised and broken; noticably worse off then Harry, and his forehead is wrapped in a bandage that hangs limply over his eyes. His other one is black. He has tugged off half of his pajamas, the shirt lying in a sweaty pile on the floor.  
  
For a moment they stare at each other; Harry's gaze remains tired, but Draco has a sudden pretense of pleasantness. He is half-smiling, for all the strength that he has, and bleeding tears from the eye that remains swollen shut.   
  
"Good morning," He chirps.  
  
"It's afternoon." Harry replies dully.  
  
Draco is suddenly broken.  
  
"I hate you." He says sourly, half to himself on an impulse. Harry rolls his eyes.  
  
"No, you don't." He replies. "You don't hate anyone. Or rather, you hate everyone. You're an equal oppurtunity smiter."  
  
Draco opens his mouth as though to reply, but finds he has nothing to say and makes a face instead. He rolls over to stare at the wall. Neither speak for some time, and after awhile, Harry plows through the silence as though it has not occured.  
  
"I'm hungry." He says suddenly, because it has occured to him that he is, and that there is nothing better to do. "Can you eat?"  
  
"_Can you eat?_" Draco mocks.  
  
Harry ignores him and sits up, looking for his glasses, his wand, and Madam Pomfrey, in that order. His glasses are on the pillow next to him, his wand is missing, and Madam Pomfrey's office is empty, the door hanging ajar. Not wanting to wait, Harry moves to swing his legs off of his bed, and finds that it is quite painful. He grudgingly keeps them in place.  
  
Draco begins to stretch his toes broadly for show.  
  
"Mmmm." He groans, grinning smugly. "That feels _wonderful._"  
  
Harry ignores what Draco has so obliviously walked into.  
  
"Well, as long as you're getting up," He replies pleasantly, "I'd like some Pumpkin juice, a few scones, and...a few pieces of fried chicken, I think."  
  
Draco turns to him, staring blankly.  
  
"And some Jello, " Harry continues. "Raspberry, if you can wangle it."   
  
Draco doesn't say anything for a few moments. He then ruffles his hair into place and rolls begrugingly out of bed, his eyes planted on the floor and a few mutters escaping his mouth.   
  
"My," he replies as he is leaving, not turning to look back as he hobbles towards the hospital door. "Aren't we a _tart_ this afternoon?"  
  
  
  
Draco returns some time later with a harried Madam Pomfrey and a picnic basket full of goodies. Quite literally, too; she has magicked them a blanket and a few place settings on the floor, as they are the only ones in the hospital wing, she mentions, throwing open the heat drenched windows. They might as well have some company. It is such a beautiful day.  
  
"Harry," She mentions, trying to help him into the space in front of his bed, much to his chagrin. "You really need to cut this out."  
  
Harry doesn't reply and instead only thinks of how much food is in that basket; he is now properly hungry and can't even be bothered to complain of how silly it is for him to sit on the floor with two bum legs. He even forgets to ask why he hasn't been magicked any painkillers, yet. Draco very gingerly places himself opposite, perched like a vulture over his place setting.  
  
When they are half-way comfortably seated on the floor, Madam Pomfrey swoops back into her office, and Harry ceases to stare at the basket and begins to empty it of its contents. It is just as he asked, and then some: there is fried chicken, biscuits and scones, fresh fruit and salad, meat pies and pumpkin juice. And at the very bottom, he finds a small container of raspberry jello.  
  
"Never let it be said, " Harry mentions in between bites, "That your anal-retentive attention to detail doesn't count for anything."  
  
Draco forgets to be sour and simply nods. The two of them eat in silence for awhile, every so often stopping the wince or to rub a swollen apendage.   
  
When they have finally cleared away their main course, Harry fishes around the basket for a spoon and breaks open his bowl of jello. It has even been sliced, he notes, picking up the little cubes delicately with his spoon, still cool from refrigeration, and plunging them into his mouth.   
  
Draco's attention has wandered out of the open window, a light breeze now picking up in the late afternoon, his belly too swollen to consider desert. His hair flutters slightly in the air, and he leans back on his elbows. Draco plays with his thoughts like marionettes, drumming his fingers behind him.   
  
"So," He mentions carefully, like he is balancing a matchstick on a tightrope. "Why did you feel compelled to collide so conveniently into me?"  
  
Harry's eyes flash. Draco continues.  
  
"Mere moments, might I add, before you yourself were going to catch the snitch?"  
  
Harry chokes on his jello and immediately gives Draco his most sufficiently irritated look. He tries to catch his breath while looking for a napkin.  
  
"I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Why- why not-? I..." Harry is consumed in his anger for a moment, and then loses his thoughts. "You're an idiot."  
  
"I'm an idiot?"  
  
"Yes. You are."  
  
Harry picks up his jello.  
  
"Thanks for the jello," he says. "But really, in future, you might do well to make any attempts at affection a little more subtle."  
  
Draco laughs mirthlessly.  
  
"Affection?" He sputters, then points to his watering eye. "Does this look like affection to you?"  
  
"Tears of joy, I'd imagine."  
  
Draco screws up his mouth in a combination of emotions Harry can't fathom.   
  
"Tears of joy..." he mutters softly, trying his hardest to be fascinated with the view from the window.   
  
There are a few moments of silence. Harry continues to calmly eat his jello. Draco looks bored.  
  
"You were in my way." Draco says under his breath.  
  
"I wasn't."  
  
Draco doesn't have a responce to this and wiggles his toes weakly.   
  
Harry considers something mid-bite and points with his spoon afterwards for affect. "Clever," he says.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Well," Harry replies, a half grin beginning to play on his mouth, glancing at his own wounds. "We are fairly torn up."  
  
Draco recedes to the defensive.  
  
"So?"  
  
Harry smiles broadly.  
  
"Well," he says pleasantly. "That was what you were after, wasn't it?"  
  
He pauses. Draco says nothing. Harry lets the sentance sit precariously on the balance for a moment, before lowering the boom, his jello spoon poised delicately near his mouth.  
  
"...Alone time?" He croons softly.  
  
Draco's face immediately contorts into something vengeful, and just as quickly is forced back into placidity.   
  
"I hate you." He grumbles, though not as forcefully as before.  
  
Harry laughs.  
  
"No, you don't." He chuckles, retrieving the last bite from the bowl. He then pauses, spoon in mid-air, staring Draco blankly in the face, tilting his jello delicately towards his mouth. He narrows his eyebrows and grins.  
  
Draco jumps back a little.  
  
"What are you doing?" He asks nervously.  
  
Harry feigns an innocent look and traces his lips with the last bite, watching Draco's eyes follow the glint of the silver. He then slips his mouth over the spoon, letting the end of it graze slowly at the edge of his tongue before setting it aside.  
  
"Mmmmm." Harry whispers, swallowing his jello. "_Tart._"


End file.
